


Yell!

by FollyOfWinchester



Series: Nothing Good Will Come [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Comfort/Angst, Cowboy Hats, Crying Dean, Deleted Scenes, Dream Sex, Episode: s07e08 Time for a Wedding, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gay Bar, Gen, Headcanon, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Men Crying, Mild Sexual Content, Missing Scene, Recap, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, Spells & Enchantments, Stress Relief, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FollyOfWinchester/pseuds/FollyOfWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean blows off some steam during Wild West Night at a local bar. Set after s07e08 Time for a Wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Panic! At The Disco

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta'd by my fanfic mentor [Mertiya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya)! Did I mention she's pretty neato?

Sam is getting ready for bed, but Dean doesn’t feel tired. He feels restless. He almost, might, maybe feel like _actually_ talking. Even from the grave, Ellen and Jo had both been able to see that his list of crap was way too fucking long to just sit on, and Ellen had even used some psychic jerkoff to tell him to talk it all out with someone. Who is he to refuse? But he sure as hell isn’t talking to Sam, _especially_ about Cas. Bobby’s out of the question, too, and even though he’s had some success chatting up women recently, he still couldn’t bring himself to talk about Cas with any of them, so where does that leave him? Who would be willing to listen to him whine about his mountainous guilt AND his dead ex-gay lover?

A light bulb blinks on, and he remembers passing a nightclub on the way to the motel with two dudes walking hand in hand headed inside. Finding a gay bar in a random Midwestern town seems kind of unlikely, but maybe that would be just the thing. On impulse, he grabs his jacket and heads for the door. “Sam, I’m headed out. Don’t wait up.”

~*~

By the time Dean parks at the nightclub, he’s not so sure of his plan anymore. Picking up a guy at a bar probably isn’t any harder than picking up chicks—hell, it might even be easier. _But do I want to pick up a guy?_ He rolls the thought around in his mind for a while and decides not to decide. _Anyway, what’s the worst that could happen? Even if I don’t go all in, I get some stuff off my chest and end up wasting some dude’s Tuesday evening._ He straightens his shoulders. If his brother can manage seeing the devil every goddamn day, he can talk about his feelings with a horny gay guy for one freaking night.

As he walks up to the door, a standing sign proclaims that it’s “Wild West Night” in chalk next to a crudely drawn rainbow cowboy hat. _Yep. Gay bar._ Doubt sets in again and he hesitates at the threshold of the door. _A gay bar. I’m going to a gay bar. Instead of a regular bar. Because I need to talk about gay stuff. Instead of just regular stuff. I’m gonna walk up to a stranger, a gay stranger, and spill all this personal shit when I haven’t even told my own goddamn brother. Oh, man… What the fuck am I doing?_ He starts to turn on his heel and head back to the parking lot, but hesitates again. _I need to talk about this crap, though. I gotta get on with the rest of my shit-stain of a life sometime._ He sighs and mentally shrugs. _Whelp, first time for everything, right?_ He heads inside.

Dean pulls up a stool at the bar and looks around. Boy, did he miss the fucking memo or what. The joint is filled to the brim with dudes in 10 gallon hats and cowboy boots. Dean raises his eyebrows and nods in quiet approval. Definitely not the worst night to pop his gay bar cherry. An older guy stands behind the bar wiping a glass in his hands. He looks like he just walked right off the set of an Eastwood flick. Clearly enjoying the theme of the evening, the bartender saunters over to Dean, “What’ll it be?” He then puts his hand to his cheek and leans in a little closer, “Somebody’s looking a little plain Jane for this posse! Where’s your hat, cowpoke?”

Dean looks down at his street clothes and shrugs. “Didn’t realize there was gonna be a dress code. I’m, uh, not from around these parts. Just passin’ through.” He tries to force a smile and fails miserably.

“Ah, I’m just kidding with ya. You don’t have to fake it on my account. You just look like you could use a bit of cheering up, and I personally find it kind of nice to hide my worries behind a costume now and then.” He gestures at his vest and shows that his fluffy grey mustache is actually of the stick-on variety. “You know what, I might have an extra hat somewhere if—”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. Just here to drink.” Dean forces another smile, but lets it fade pretty much immediately.

The bartender nods knowingly as Dean orders a double shot of whisky and gets comfortable against the bar top. He feels numb. He lifts his eyes to the ceiling. _Ellen, this better work, ‘cause fuck knows I need it._

Two glasses arrive with a pair of dull thunks in front of him instead of just the one he ordered. Dean looks up at the bartender and he points a few seats down the bar, “From that ornery cowpoke right there. Looks like you’ve got an admirer, lonesome.” He winks at Dean.

Dean turns his head and a skinny blonde guy in a tiny costume cowboy hat, white t-shirt, and swim trunks waves a blue plastic six shooter in his direction. He looks to be in his early twenties and really stoked about being alive. The guy’s enthusiasm makes Dean want to be surly, but the blow-up horse inner tube around his waste is so fucking absurd that he can’t keep up his scowl. _Okay, that’s kind of awesome. Wild West Night, huh?_ Dean smirks and acknowledges him with a nod. The other guy points his gun at the empty seat next to Dean and makes a puppy dog face. _Eh, what the hell? Sure._ Dean motions him over. _Easy as pie._

The vinyl inner tube squeaks as the surfer cowboy shifts bar stools. “Hey! The name’s Jacob.”

Dean takes a swig of whisky, “Dean,” he points down at Jacob’s crotch, “Nice horse.”

“Thanks! He’s a purebred stallion!” Jacob pats the horse’s head and beams at Dean like a goddamn sunrise.

Dean actually smiles. _Alright, this guy is a dope, but he’s an endearing dope._

Jacob’s eyebrows knit together, “Anyway, you looked hella lonely, plus no costume and ordering double shots of hard liquor? I couldn’t resist!”

Dean laughs, “The liquor _is_ my costume.” He takes another swig. “Anyway, you seem like you’re having a great time tonight. Sure you wanna spoil it by talking to a grouchy drifter like me?”

“I dunno. I like listening to people and you look like you’ve got a shit ton to say. Probably a lot more than generic cowboy guy #33 out on the dance floor.” Jacob whips his gun around in the general direction of the largest crowd, “And I love grouchy drifters with stubble and sad, _sensual_ eyes.” He says “sensual” a bit more breathlessly than strictly necessary and fans himself with the six shooter. His elbows slide down the bar in Dean’s direction and he rests his chin on his palms with the silly toy gun dangling by the trigger from his pinky. “So, tell me your story!”

Dean has to laugh to cover for his mild embarrassment. He’s never let a man flirt with him without shutting him down right away, and it’s…actually pretty flattering. And Jacob’s not half bad looking. Dean could imagine much worse in terms of making conversation at a gay bar. He runs his hand through his hair and looks down at his drink. _Okay, kid, you asked for it._ “Alright, let’s say I’m a…police officer. Got into it because of my dad. He was teaching me how to shoot a gun and dissect a crime scene when other kids were out throwing a ball around. Since I’ve been…on the force, I’ve worked a lot of cases, from…muggings to…serial killers…to stuff so bad it felt like…like the whole goddamn world was ending. I’ve…lost a lot of people. My dad, for one. This mother/daughter duo, my uncle, my…partner.” Dean grimaces. _Why am I spilling my guts like this? I should get out of here and quit messing up this poor dude’s buzz._ “Look, you really don’t need to listen to my sob story. Thanks for the drink.” He starts to get up.

Jacob grabs his forearm. “Come on, Dean. Stay. Like I said, I don’t mind listening and you sounded like you were just getting started. Plus you’ve got a _sexy_ voice, so it’s a win-win!”

Dean looks down at Jacob’s hand on his arm and then up to his face. His expression is so sincere and open that it takes Dean by surprise. It hits him that he’s gotten used to talking to people with something to hide, whether it was people hiding information about a case or Sammy hiding his problems or Cas hiding…just about everything important. It feels good to talk to someone whose motives are 100% crystal clear for once. _This dude just wants to get some action tonight. That’s it. There’s no other hidden agenda. I can just talk and he’ll just listen and, you know what, I think I’ve earned having ONE goddamn transparent conversation with someone for once._ Dean sits back down. “Okay. But don’t blame me if all my baggage gets too heavy for you. You’ve been warned. Grouchy drifter, remember?” He points at himself and then down at the glasses in front of him.

Jacob nods vigorously and returns his chin to his hands before teasing in a ridiculously snobby voice, “Do go on.”

Dean rolls his eyes playfully, but his face goes somber as he starts talking again. “Well, as I was saying, I’ve seen a lot of good people die…because of the choices I’ve made. And I’ve killed a lot of people…in the line of duty, that is. I always think I’m doing the right thing when I’m doing it, but after so many dead family and friends and colleagues and even innocent people…after a while, it just…it wears you down. I just start questioning everything I do, you know?”

“But you’re a cop. Stuff like that’s bound to happen, right?” Jacob reaches out and touches Dean’s arm again, “You can’t blame yourself for not knowing the future. I mean, you’re trying to save people in tough circumstances. If you’re already doing your best to ‘protect and serve’ or whatever, then what else can ya do?”

 _Doing my best? Can’t blame myself?_ Dean’s lips part and he stares awestruck over at the kid, the seemingly naïve kid in the ridiculous costume, who just uttered nearly the same thing as that foxy bartender a few towns ago. Maybe it’s the fact that they know nothing about him apart from that crap he just blabbed about, but somehow the sentiment rings more true coming from a stranger who’s trying to get in his pants than from Ellen or Jo or even Sam.

“I’m not a psychiatrist or anything, but I do know that guilt sucks. It totally sucks and makes you feel like a huge piece of shit even when you aren’t.” Jacob looks down at his hand lazily drawing circles over the muscles of Dean’s forearm and his voice gets quiet, “I’m sure none of the stuff I’ve ever done even sort of compares to being a cop, but I was always way better off once I could just, I dunno, let it go? Like, ‘I did what I thought was the best and that’s all anyone can ever expect outta me.’” He looks back up at Dean’s face and models for Dean exactly what a faked smile looks like. “Sorry, this isn’t about me and my boring life. I’m supposed to be the one listening here!” Jacob pauses and the light comes back into his eyes, “So, tell me about this ‘partner’ of yours. Did you mean like your cop partner or like your _partner_ -partner?”

Dean sets his jaw. _Here it comes._ He knows he needs to talk about Cas, but… _Fuck, how do I even start?_ “Well, he was…” Dean huffs out a breath and rubs the side of his neck, “Look, Jacob, I’m about to tell you some crap I’ve never told anyone, so just…bear with me, alright?” 

Jacob squeezes Dean’s forearm. All of his superficial enthusiasm from before is replaced with solemn concentration as he searches Dean’s face and nods.

Dean downs the rest of the whisky in front of him, “He was kinda both and kinda neither. He wasn’t a cop. He was…like a private detective. His name was Cas. We met because he showed up and, well, basically pulled my sorry ass out of hell. At first I wasn’t sure I should work with him. Police and PIs aren’t really supposed to pal around, but the guy…I dunno, he saw something in me, I guess? And the shit he saved me from just blew up after that, one of those times where it felt like the world was gonna end. The craziest part was, it was all kind of my fault. I…compromised his investigation, but he stood by me, even sided with me, against all the other people he’d been working with on the case. Finally, he got fired because of me, but he kept on working the case with me. That’s when we started…when I realized…” Dean trails off. His eyes sting and he suddenly feels like everyone in the entire night club is looking right at him. Just then, the bartender wanders by and gives him a pitying look. It occurs to Dean that maybe sitting at the bar isn’t really the best place for a serious play-by-play of his foray into homosexuality with an angel. He looks around and then jerks his head in the direction of some more private seating at the back of the nightclub. “You mind if we, uh, relocate?”

Dean settles into a couch in a dark corner while Jacob orders them another round of drinks. His anxiety from talking about Cas makes itself known through his fingers drumming against the matted fabric of the couch back. He can feel himself tense up as Jacob flops down next to him with another double shot of whisky and some alarmingly blue substance in a martini glass. _You can do this. You can say it out loud. You—_

“So you and this private eye guy fucked, huh?”

Dean blinks at him, but some of the tension leaves him after hearing the admission supplied by someone else. _This kid. Talking to this kid is actually working._

“Right? No? Oh no, don’t tell me it was unrequited love! And he died before you could tell him?! That’s too tragic!” Jacob covers his eyes with his hands and peeks at Dean through his fingers.

Dean cuts in, “No, no. We did it. We definitely fucked. It was the night before a really risky operation and we both thought there was a pretty good chance we’d be dead the next day. And it was…man…it was fucking awesome. But the case brought everything crashing down around us. Nothing was going our way, the body count just kept rising, and it got to where basically all we had was each other. And then even that fell apart and I almost ruined everything. The whole investigation, the life lost, everything was almost for _absolutely nothing_. Just when it looked like we were both done for, my actual cop partner got the upper hand on the big kahuna behind the entire crime spree and that was it. Case closed.” Dean grimaces and looks up from the drink in his hand. “After that, Cas and I, we just kind of…went our separate ways. He got his old job as a PI back because of the part he played in taking down the crime lord and I quit the force because…I just couldn’t take any more. We didn’t see each other for a whole fucking year after that. I shacked up with this chick and her son and played dad for a while, but the whole time all I could think about was him. Every goddamn day I wanted him back.”

“Wait, you’re bi? Double wait, was he your first boyfriend? Triple wait, are you not out to anyone?”

Dean looks over at him. Those were some intense questions that he didn’t really know how to answer, but he sighs and gives it a try. “Uh, well, he was the first, and only, dude I have ever been with, but we never really talked about the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing…and honestly, I don’t know what I am, so I can’t really be ‘out’ about it.”

“Oh my god, you poor thing. You are literally the most interesting man I have ever talked to at a bar.” Jacob snuggles up next to him and leans his head against Dean’s shoulder. “Please tell me you two got back together before he died.”

Dean’s arm wavers for a moment before he slings it around Jacob’s back. “Don’t want to spoil the ending, but I think you’re gonna be disappointed. When we met again I was too wrapped up in my own problems to notice what a mess he had gotten himself into. In the meantime, my old cop partner had convinced me to rejoin the force, but he had some serious mental issues going on that were aftershocks of the big case. Plus, I was bringing work home and putting my fake family in danger and my head just wasn’t in the right place, so Cas and I kind of danced around the whole relationship issue for a while. Just when things started to look up, after I convinced my cop partner to get help and I finally broke it off with that chick, Cas and I finally got back together, but I could tell something was seriously wrong with him. We met in secret one night and he gave me the best fucking blow job of my life and I thought we were back, the dynamic duo, but then he started apologizing and ran off before I could ask him what was going on. He got distant and weird and I came to find out that he’d been lying to me about everything since we met back up. Not only was the case we worked together still open, but he was working with one of the criminals to crack it! He wasn’t even a PI anymore, more of a vigilante, and he’d been spying on me for who knows how long. It was too late for me, though. I…I realized I was in love with him and I finally told him. I told him how much he meant to me and I tried to convince him to quit fucking around with the bad guys and let me help him, but then he went full dark side. He stole case files, killed an innocent witness, and nearly killed my cop partner, which left him even more mentally fucked up than ever. In the end, he killed all the players involved and finally put the case to rest, but he was…shot in the process. He didn’t stop to fix himself up until everyone opposing his new brand of justice was dead and by that point it was too late for him. By the time he kicked the bucket, it was like I didn’t even know him anymore.” Dean feels a tear roll down his cheek and he sets his drink down to brush it away. “I just…miss him so fucking much, the guy that he was when…when I fell in love with him.” As he finishes the story, relief sweeps over him, as if a giant fucking boulder sitting on his shoulders has just poofed to dust.

Jacob’s head shifts a bit against his shoulder, “You wanted him to apologize?”

“I, well, nah. It’s not that. He did apologize. Kind of. And I know he regrets…regretted all the shit that hit the fan. Some of his last words to me were that he was gonna find a way to make it up to me. I just,” He pauses and grits his teeth, “I never got to say goodbye. Or thanks for everything. Or…or I love you. Or any of the crap I shoulda said. I saw him die. I know he ain’t coming back this time, but sometimes I think, ‘If I could just yell loud enough, he would hear me and not be dead.’” Dean shakes his head, “Fuck, that sounds so stupid now that it’s out of my mouth.”

“Eh, everybody pictures stuff like that when somebody important is suddenly gone. It’s not stupid. I think it sounds really romantic and lovely, especially coming from a grouchy drifter like you.” Jacob sighs wistfully.

Dean looks down at Jacob’s cheek against his shoulder. Of course, talking to this random kid didn’t magically bring Cas back, but everything felt a little easier, like Dean could start working through it all now that he’d finally formed all his jumbled up thoughts into words. He gives Jacob’s back a gentle squeeze. “You’re the only one to ever hear that story. Thanks for listening. I…yeah, as much as it hurt, I needed to tell it.”

“No problem! Thank you for picking me to be the one to hear it! I feel like I just watched a really good, but super tragic, indie movie. You’re right, though. The ending was pretty disappointing.” Jacob absentmindedly plays with the hem of Dean’s overshirt. “What would you do if he really did come back? If you yelled loud enough and there he was?”

Dean stares up at the ceiling and exhales. “Fuck, I dunno. Kiss him? Punch him? Break down crying? I can just imagine him suddenly standing behind me somewhere. He’d probably be like, ‘Hello, Dean.’ Like nothing happened. And as many times as I’ve imagined it I still don’t have a clue what in the fuck I would do.” Dean closes his eyes, “Maybe that’s not what would happen, though. Maybe he’d run up to me and wrap his arms around me and just beg me to tell him what to do to fix everything. If that’s how it went down, I don’t think I could do anything but pull him against me and kiss the son of a bitch until neither of us could think about any of the terrible shit we’ve done to each other.”

The unexpected absence of Jacob’s warmth and a sharp tug on his arm pull Dean out of his daydream. Jacob is suddenly on his feet with both hands around Dean’s wrist, “Come with me.”

Dean looks up at him and Jacob is grinning back like an idiot. Not really the expression you might expect from someone trying to finish the job of seducing you into some too-hot-for-TV dude-on-dude action. But if he wasn’t about to be led out behind the bar for a quickie… “What’re you—”

“Ah ah ah! No questions. I promise you’ll like it. Just trust me.” Jacob yanks on his arm again.

Dean shrugs and lets Jacob pull him to standing. He likes Jacob, and, seriously, what kind of trouble could a scrawny twenty-something really drag him into that he couldn’t handle? He nods to Jacob and follows him out into the parking lot.

~*~

It’s late and the streets are quiet. Dean and Jacob walk along the sidewalk in companionable silence for a few minutes. It’s nice. Instead of brooding over his problems, Dean actually feels...kind of relaxed. He basks in the night air and occasionally looks over at Jacob for clues as to their final destination. Jacob spends the trip with his hands in his pockets staring up into the sky and occasionally meeting Dean’s gaze with a wry smile. They pass by a series of darkened storefronts and into a more rundown part of the town before Jacob stops and points at an abandoned lot between two warehouses. Dean shoots him a questioning look. _Okay, this is a little creepy._

“I figure it’s only fair. You told me something you've never told anyone else, so I brought you somewhere I’ve never brought anyone else.” Jacob strolls forward into the center of the lot and plants his feet. Before Dean can even form his mild confusion into a question, Jacob starts shouting at the stars.

“FUUUUUUCK! I’M SORRY! JUST COME BACK ALREADY!” Jacob’s voice echoes back and forth between the warehouses. He looks back over his shoulder and winks at Dean before shouting again. “I MISS YOU AND YOUR SHITTY AUSTRALIAN ACCENT!”

Dean stands dumbstruck on the sidewalk. _This fucking kid._ Jacob motions for him to come over, “Come on, you try! This is where I chill when my life gets screwed up. It really does help, like when my cat died, or when I accidentally erased my Pokémon Diamond save while I was drunk, or…or when I fell in love with my boyfriend’s sexy, but _totally_ straight, Australian best friend and lost them both in the process.” He looks down at the ground for a second and then back up at Dean, “Anyway, your turn! Like you said, maybe if you yell loud enough…if you just yell loud enough, everything will go back to being great again.” Jacob’s eyes look wet as he beckons Dean over again.

Dean stares hard back at Jacob. _If I just yell loud enough._ He takes a few tentative steps and then something inside him snaps. _If I just PRAY loud enough._ He runs up next to Jacob and shouts at the top of his lungs, “CAS, CASTIEL, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! GET YOUR ANGELIC ASS DOWN HERE SO I CAN FORGIVE YOU ALREADY!” 

Jacob wipes his eyes and smiles at Dean before shouting again. “I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY! I’LL DO ANYTHING! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!”

Dean smiles back and gives it another go. “I MISS YOU EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN DAY! I NEED TO TELL YOU THAT I,” his voice cracks, “that I love you!” He chokes back a sob. “I love you, you stupid bastard!”

Jacob pats him gently on the shoulder. They keep shouting and letting the echoes wash over them until they’re both too hoarse to keep it up. As they both stare up into the night sky, Jacob laces his fingers between Dean’s, “Thanks. I needed that.”

Dean squeezes Jacob’s hand, “Ditto.”

~*~


	2. KISS

Dean stands in the middle of a field with a casting bowl in one hand and a bloodstained scrap of parchment in the other. He looks down at the crudely scrawled writing. He knows the chance of a spell he tortured out of a demon actually bringing Cas back is pretty much a million to one, but he’s got to try something. His own voice echoes in his head like a mantra. _If I could yell loud enough. If I could yell loud enough. If I could yell loud enough._ He belts out the incantation at the top of his lungs and the ingredients in the bowl burst into flame as he finishes the final words. A torrent of wind envelops him and he has to shield his eyes from the debris flying at his face. When the gusts die down and he lowers his arms, Cas is hanging completely naked in the air a few yards away. His eyes are closed and his face is contorted in what appears to be crippling pain. His translucent wings glisten orange and magenta in the last rays of the sunset, but ghostly chains hold them folded behind his back. His feet touch down and, as if awoken from a trance, his eyes shoot open and his wings unfurl, pulverizing the chains to dust around him. “Dean!”

Dean tosses the remains of the spell aside and sprints toward Cas. Once Dean gets close enough, Cas wraps his wings around them both. Their mouths meet briefly, but Dean breaks the kiss to express his astonishment, “It worked! I can’t believe it fucking worked!”

“Dean, please. Please, forgive me. Tell me what I must do. I will do anything.”

Tears well up in Dean’s eyes, “You’re already doing it. Just keep not being dead.”

Cas tightens his wings around Dean’s back, “Understood.” He pulls Dean into a heated kiss with renewed conviction, like Dean is his new religion and every meeting of their lips is the holiest of prayer. Dean’s clothes disappear in a blink as they tumble backward into the soft grass and—

“Dude, seriously, wake up!” 

Dean eyes pop open to the familiar noises of Sam shuffling around the hotel room. He rolls over and groans. “Come on, Sammy. Couldn’t you have waited like five more minutes? Geez.” He can still feel the sensations from his dream. Cas’s wings against his back. Cas’s hands soothing over his skin. Cas’s lips on his own. _Cas._ He’s had plenty of dreams about Cas, but this was the first one in forever that wasn’t a nightlong replay of Cas betraying him and exploding into black ooze underwater. _That’s something._

_That’s definitely something._

~*~


End file.
